And I was only too happy to. I wanted ten days of depravity with her, ten days spent straight in bed, getting up only to eat and shit. Because fuck, that body, those sweet, breathy gasps, her responsiveness, her constantly slick cunt were such turn-ons that I was tempted to tie her down and lock her up.
But when the teen stepped out of the car, the sunlight glinting off those brown curls, shooting me a shy smile and wearing a college sweatshirt, I jolted sharply, rudely reminded of her youth and innocence. So instead, I made Lindy breakfast. Yeah, that’s what I’ve come down to. Chris Jones, CEO and Mr. Alpha Male, made a teenage girl breakfast in his kitchen, pancakes with whipped cream, plenty of butter and syrup.
But it was the right thing to do. Lindy was sweet, unassuming, sharing her heart with me despite our “arrangement,” despite the danger lurking ahead.
“My parents think I’m at school already,” she confessed, looking down at her hands. “I told them the coffee shop needed me back early.”
I frowned then, my hand stilling while beating eggs.
“You work?” I rumbled darkly, glancing over. “I thought you were going to class full-time.”
And she nodded again, biting her lip.
“Yeah, I guess I’m not as smart as people think,” she said a little wryly. “Everyone thinks I got a huge scholarship to go to school, but actually, I just got something small, nowhere near enough. So I’m a waitress at Little Mo’s near campus, it’s not much but it helps pay the bills.”
And I paused for a moment while mixing the batter. No scholarship? Waitressing at a place called “Little Mo’s” while going to classes full-time? Shit, serving is a tough job, you’re on your feet all day and she was probably dead tired squeezing shifts in before and after classes. Plus, college was supposed to be a time to have fun, socialize and party, so when did that happen? When did my little girl get to relax and spread her wings? Suddenly I felt like a total douche because the financial pressures on the brunette must have been enormous, crushing her slim shoulders. And I could almost, almost, understand her father’s urge to steal, to help his daughter so she didn’t have to work so hard.
But growling, I shook my head in disgust. Fuck, Jim had stolen from me, his hand in the till right under my nose, he deserved to be fired, the month of extra pay was a courtesy only. And I raged at myself more. What the fuck, was I going insane? Was I getting soft in my old age, feeling sympathy for a loser? It was so out of character, so whacko for my usual hard edges, my dominant, arrogant self, that I started feeling unsettled.
But I forced myself to take a breath and relax, to stop beating the eggs to a pulp, and instead turned to Lindy with a reassuring smile.
“Little girl, I’ll help,” I rumbled casually. “I’ve got more than enough with the business, I’m a single dude with nowhere to spend it,” I said. “Send me your tuition bill and I’ll write a check.”
The brunette’s cheeks colored and her chin trembled for a moment.
“Mr. Jones,” she said quietly, “I know this … um, arrangement is unconventional but you’re not paying me for sex,” she said firmly. “I’m not a whore.”
And I stopped all movement for a moment. Because sure, I wasn’t giving her cash in an envelope, it wasn’t that obvious, but I was keeping her dad at United Electric because of our agreement. So there was definitely money involved, even if it wasn’t blatant. So I tried again.
“Honey,” I said softly, “I want you to be comfortable, to not stress about money when you should be having fun at school. It’s not a big deal, trust me, I can afford it, so let me help, okay? Seriously.”
But the girl just colored even more, shaking her head stubbornly.
“No Mr. Jones,” she said in a low voice. “I can’t let you do that, please understand,” she said, her voice wobbly, her chin trembling a little.
And suddenly I realized how much she didn’t want this to be some nasty money-for-sex exchange, how she’d categorized this as “helping her dad” rather than “selling her virginity for cash.” So I let it go, sensitive to the brunette’s needs and wants, how much this transaction was probably taking out of her. Shit, this was getting to be more than what even I’d bargained for, I needed to be more careful around Lindy otherwise my heart would slip and I’d find myself flat on my face, gasping for air.
So turning the conversation light once again, I teased her about her curls, about her fine, curvy form.
“And I want to see you put on some weight, put some jiggle on that body,” I grinned lasciviously at her while passing over a jar of maple syrup. “Put this gooey shit all over your pancakes, it’s got a lot of calories.”